And I Must Scream.

BY : Spoofehness
Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > AU - Alternate Universe
Dragon prints: 36
Disclaimer: This following is a non-profit, fan based work of fiction. Jak and Daxter is owned by Naughty Dog and Sony Computer Entertainment.

In so cavernous a space, screams can sound inhuman. Erol looked on cooly as the subject writhed within the bindings of the chair apparatus; every muscle straining at its limit with the overstimulation of purple electricity lancing across his body, dying the light of the room a brilliant lilac against the matte steel walls. His eyes lingered on the pulsing veins on the tops of the subjects hands, feet, and at each temple and idly wondered what the dilation measurement was. Tutting his tongue inaudibly against the cacophonous noise he left the line of his notes blank, inwardly annoyed that the Baron had decided to exclusively focus on the electrical rather than less volatile procedures, which limited many of the necessary measurements to audio-visual only, since Erol could not approach closer than a foot away during the procedure.

The subject’s body collapsed onto the chair in the same instant that the cycle completed; and through the sudden silence, the automated announcement of bio readings repeated it’s tired phrase “nominal”. Erol scowled slightly and stepped forward, reaching out with insulated gloves. Sweat beaded on the subject’s skin and now gathered, falling in rivulets toward the condensation of the cold metal supporting the subjects limp body. Erol noted with a quick scribble of shorthand that the subject had nearly instantly fallen unconscious at the end of the procedure, and tucked the pencil into a small grooved hole in the tablet, setting it aside onto the control panel as he leaned in to examine the subject more thoroughly.

With a deftness suggesting technical skill more than gentleness he brushed a blond lock away from the subject’s face and pulled one of his eyelids open. The subject remained unresponsive and Erol marked accordingly with his free hand, and paused pensively as his attention wavered from his professional task, curiously watching a bead of sweat race from the subjects brow down his face and trace the line of his cheekbone.

Absent-minded in his idle interest, Erol’s hand followed the wet trail and traced the youth’s cheek. His thoughts danced away from him, the sheet of notes abandoned and forgotten as the commander let that errant bead of sweat encompass his full attention as the fascination escalated into a desire which overcame his professional detachment.

Gripping the subjects jaw, the corner of Erol’s lip slowly creeped upward as he felt the satisfying give of bone flexing under strong fingers. With a hissing breath he relaxed his hand, letting the fingertips dance a silent beat against the subject’s jaw, traveling down to his neck and Erol subdued the instinctual urge to grip and crush the boy’s neck. Instead he let his gaze wander and found his attention settling on the boy’s slender collar bone, seductive and fragile. So easy to break. As his eyes quickly flickered briefly back to the boy’s face; the Commander made a decision and let his smile grow in earnest. With a trained fluid motion, he balled a fist and swept it across the boy’s face.

Quick as a whip and with much the same sound, Erol’s leather glove produced a loud SNAP! As the subject’s head whipped to the side and his eyes snapped open in shock, the boy’s left hand instinctively tugging at the shackles to reach for his cheek.

“Time to wake up boy.” The Commander’s harsh tone softened with a mockingly playful whine, “You’re much less fun comatose.” Now graced with an audience, Erol bared his teeth in a cruel, lopsided grin; spreading ever wider as he eagerly watched the subject's eyes widen in understanding, the pulse on his neck visibly quickening with fear. Restraining his own excitement, Erol relaxed his fist and, without making contact, let his fingers ghost suggestively near the boy’s face, now grimacing in indecision whether to turn his face away and be forced to face instead at the commander. The quick puffs of hot breath against the bare patch of skin between glove and sleeve nearly made Erol shudder with excited anticipation; “but,” he reminded himself silently “there is no rush.”

With a devilish glint the Commander flitted his eyes between the boys’ and his own hand as he let his fingers creep slowly over the subjects skin; his touch so gentle that the leather sometimes only brushed against the tiny sharp ends of green stubble. The subject’s eyes were now trained exclusively on the Commander, his breath shallow and slow as the boy tried to steel himself from his silent fear. The steady nature of his gaze belied a terror only a man like Erol could see past; and now he watched it hungrily, one gaze capturing the other in a staring game to see who would falter first. Erol’s hand travelled lower and reaching the concealed plackett of the boy’s shirt, slipped his fingers familiarly around the hidden buttons and with deceitful gentleness, pressed his fingertips into the soft, scarred flesh. Still the boy’s gaze stayed locked on the Commanders’ and Erol almost chuckled in appreciation for the subject’s daring.

Playing leisurely with the buttons as he drifted his hand lower still, Erol felt himself leaning in and inwardly chastised himself to keep his body steady. It wouldn’t do to break the rules, even if the subject had no idea what sort of game was being played. No, he could not fully engage until the boy was sufficiently unnerved to break his concentration away from the Commander’s eyes; and Erol felt he owed it to the boy to reward his determination with the eye contact which made him feel as though he were somehow in control before his jailor stripped away the artifice. That moment came as soon as the Commander’s hand reached the end of the shirt.

In the moment the subject’s eyes darted to the Commander’s hand instead of his eyes, Erol swooped in to the crook of the boy’s neck and breathed deep as his jaw pressed to the boys artery, and feeling the boy shudder under his chin as his pulse quickened briefly to a speed not unlike that of a rodent. “I win.” the single thought set Erols skin aflame as he let loose his inhibitions.

 

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AN: This is the first fanfic I've written in over ten years and means a lot to me for my ability to even create it. There is at least one more chapter coming up because I dislike comics which end on a suggestive cliffhanger; especially those where the author indicates that it is somehow better to 'leave it up to the reader imagination'. In my opinion, if you were satisfied with imagination, you wouldn't be reading fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed this and I hope you enjoy the next chapter(s) to come.

Thank you for reading <3



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